


swear my time's never cheap

by likewinning



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Retail, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 03:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4591437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likewinning/pseuds/likewinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>They don't do this much anymore, but every time they do it takes Jason back to being fifteen, sixteen and being a little bit in love with Dick.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	swear my time's never cheap

Dick's petting Jason's hair, running his hands through the blue highlights that he helped Jason redo the other day. Jason's slumped against his shoulder, his eyes half closed while he watches Tim and Roy roll around the floor like idiots. They _were_ playing Halo, but Tim grabbed Roy's ass halfway through and that kind of fell by the wayside.

"You doing all right, Jay?" Dick asks.

"Sort of," Jason says. "That devil child we employed made me mix my liquors. I might die tomorrow."

Dick laughs. "Uh-oh," he says. "Plus it's been a while since you drank like that with us."

"Well, you know," Jason says. "One of us has to take things seriously sometimes. I don't know how any of you losers pay rent."

"Well," Dick says. He scratches the hairs at the back of Jason's neck and Jason makes a soft little noise. "These idiots never pay for food while they're working, and Tim gets half his clothes from our clearance rack, so really he has plenty left over for rent."

"Point," Jason agrees. He traces the inside of Dick's wrist, the tattoo of a robin that means something Jason's too drunk to remember right now.

"And Roy…" Dick says, grinning when Jason starts kissing his neck, licking his pulse point. "Well, you've seen where he lives. It's basically a storage locker."

"Mm," Jason says. He climbs onto Dick's lap, straddling him. Dick undoes Jason's belt, pushes his shirt up over his head. "He stayed with me and Steph for a few days and she almost killed him when he set a bagel on fire in the toaster."

"Poor Steph," Dick says. He leans forward, scraping his teeth down the ink on Jason's chest, swirls of black and red and green. Jason bucks his hips, and Dick shoves Jason's jeans and boxers down, grips Jason's ass with both hands.

"Fuck," Jason says. "Dickie…"

Dick just looks up at him and smiles, eyes all lit up with vodka and weed, and then he shifts with Jason in his arms, presses him back against the arm of the couch and wraps his mouth around Jason's cock.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Jason says again. He grabs a fistful of Dick's hair, whines when Dick holds him down and doesn't let Jason arch into him like he wants to. Dick slurps all up and down Jason's cock, and Jason can feel the stud on Dick's tongue, can feel when Dick starts to hum around him.

He doesn't last long, just until about the time Dick gets his hand on his balls, slides his fingers over Jason's hole, and maybe it's the drinks but Jason feels like he comes _forever_. When he opens his eyes, Roy and Tim have disappeared off to somewhere else, and he pulls Dick up by his hair and licks his mouth clean before he says, "Get up here."

Dick shoves his skinny jeans out of the way, strips off his shirt and climbs up Jason's body, balances over him while Jason sucks him off. Jason loves this, loves just letting Dick use his mouth like this sometimes. They don't do this much anymore, but every time they do it takes Jason back to being fifteen, sixteen and being a little bit in love with Dick. He looked up to him like crazy, went and got his first piercing after Dick did, dyed his hair, listened to the same music. He must have made Dick sick with it but Dick never said a word about it, just dragged Jason along with him everywhere.

"God, Jay, so good," Dick says, and Jason moans around him, spit and precome dripping down his chin when Dick gets closer, moves faster. He throws his head back when he comes and Jason watches the sharp lines of his neck, the places where his teeth have already been.

After, Dick kicks his clothes off the rest of the way and starts flipping through channels on the TV. Jason gets up to grab them something to drink and walks in on Tim, wearing Roy's shirt and nothing else and fixing himself another drink.

"Where's Roy?" Jason asks. He grabs two beers from the fridge, starts rummaging around for anything to eat that isn't some kind of gummy animal.

"Passed out," Tim says. He stirs his drink with a swirly straw, leans back against the counter to look at Jason. "Heard you talking shit about me out there," he says.

Jason snorts. "Not _you_. Just the concoctions you call drinks."

"Hm," Tim says. He steps right up to Jason, still holding his drink. He's nearly a foot smaller than Jason but somehow he still manages to be imposing, like when he tackles shoplifters to the ground over fifty fucking cent buttons. "You should try this one," Tim says, holding out his glass to Jason. "It's really good."

"Tim," Jason says. "You're always saying that, and then –"

"Jay-son," Tim sing-songs. "Don't be a loser. Try it."

It's bright _blue_ is what it is, but when Tim tells you to do something you pretty much just do it. Jason's immune to that _usually_ but not when he's drunk, not when he's got a full view of Tim's ass and thighs, Roy's or whoever's handprints all over him. His ankles still have little scratch marks from the pair of heels he had on this morning, and each of his nails is painted a different shade of red.

"Hey," Jason says after he takes a sip. "That's actually not so bad."

Tim grins at him, flutters his stupid pretty lashes, and it's that and all the booze that has him pressing Tim back against the counter, dropping to his knees and tonguing Tim's ass until he comes untouched.

"Shit," Tim breathes, and Jason's about to ask if Tim's all right when Tim laughs. "Roy told me if I got come on one more of his shirts he'd kill me."

Jason snorts, runs his hand over Tim's belly and licks his fingers clean. "Tell him he did it himself. He'll never remember."

"Maybe I'll tell him it was _you_ ," Tim says, giggling, and Jason tips his head down, sucks a bruise onto Tim's shoulder blade.

"That's fine," Jason says. "I can take him."


End file.
